A Demon in Disguise
by IncMode
Summary: AU. Kurt had been taken in by his father, Azazel, as a baby. 16 years later, Prof. X picks up on him with Cerebro and sends Wolverine to find him. Can he convince Kurt that he's more than just an evil demon? Or will they end up at each other's throats?
1. Prologue

He was being followed.

The man kept glancing behind him furtively, unable to be rid of the feeling that something was watching him, stalking his every move.

Every shadow in his peripheral vision seemed to morph its shape into that of a person, arms reaching out as if to snatch him away.

The dark of the night certainly wasn't helping to ease his paranoia. Neither was his current drunken stupor.

His footsteps hurried across the cold pavement, until finally he broke out into a full run. There. Something was definitely following him.

If he had been ten years younger, the man would have had no problem making the last mile between his home and the pub. Unfortunately - age, high cholesterol, and twenty years of smoking had all caught up to him before his stalker could.

He managed a short, adrenaline-fueled sprint before he found himself leaning his hands on his knees and wheezing, gasping to catch his breath.

Suddenly the man realized how silly he was being. What was he running from, exactly? Shadow men he had seen after a late night of drinking?

The man allowed himself to chuckle at his antics. The guys would have loved to hear about this one. The man stood up straight and inhaled deeply in an attempt to clear his mind. He froze though, as he registered the faint scent of brimstone and sulfur.

Gulping, he slowly turned around to locate the source of the smell. At the opposite end of the block, he could barely make out the silhouette of a man. Only, it wasn't a man. It couldn't have been.

He stood there casually, looking straight back at him with a pair of unnaturally glowing, yellow eyes.

The man let out a frightened shriek and quickly rushed down a dark alleyway. His heart pounding in his ears, the man ran until the alley gave out into an unfamiliar street. Across of it stood a church in all of its glory.

He made a direct beeline for it, shoving the doors open with all his strength. Naturally, he felt safer in this church. This was a holy place after all, where God's eyes were attentively watching.

Panting, he took in his surroundings with a dim visibility aided by burning candles. It was a small church, rows of pews were either side of the aisle he was standing in. At the end of it, hung a large crucifix.

The man was slowly calming down as he stared at the sorrowful image of the Prince of Jews, nailed to a cross and left to die for the sins of his children.

Something compelled him to walk towards it as safety and comfort enveloped him in a tantalizing cocktail. Soon, he found himself standing directly beneath it craning his head to look up at it as Jesus was craning his own to look up at heaven.

It was this perfect moment that would be forever ruined.

Something strong grabbed him by the throat and lifted him up into the air. Thrashing his arms and legs about, nothing he did could have gotten him out of this death grip.

The something brought his body up even higher until finally he was faced with an image that made his blood turn cold. An unnatural and unholy monster, perched atop of the crucifix that was until now hidden in shadows.

Its spaded tail wrapped around his throat squeezed even tighter, choking out the last bit of life from him.

The last thing that the man ever saw before blacking out into eternal sleep was the image of a cruel mockery of a smile embracing the lips of a demon.

**AN: Huh... a bit darker than my usual stuff. I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, 'tis only the prologue. God, I really shouldn't be starting on another story. I couldn't help it though. I re-watched X-Men: First Class again and I thought an evil Kurt would be awesome.**

**Anyway, drop by a review if you feel like it. **


	2. A Game of Chance, Under Copyright Rule

**_Author's Notes_**

**_1) Brasov, Romania: The eighth largest city in Romania, a country in Eastern Europe_**

**_2) The Black Church: Brasov's most famous landmark. It was originally built as a Catholic church until the arrival of the Transylvannian Saxons who converted it to Lutherism. _**

**_3) Ursus: One of the most popular beer brands in Romania_**

**_4) Ciuc: Another beer brand _**

* * *

><p><em>"Got you."<em>

Xavier couldn't help the surge of triumph even if he wanted to. He had spent weeks trying to pinpoint the exact location of this elusive mutant, one who had managed to dodge Cerebro nearly every time the Professor gave a go at it.

The first time he had happened upon this specific gene signature that the mutant gave off was completely by accident. He was giving his newly built brain-wave amplifier a test run when a short, quick burst of mutant energy was detected. But as soon as Cerebro registered it, it was gone again.

This happened several more times until finally Xavier turned it into a little game. Find the Mutant ®. Eventually, he had to set it aside as more pressing issues arose that needed his attention and he was forced to conclude only when he had some free time.

It was during one such of these times that the signature stood still long enough for him locate its exact coordinates, the only real progress that he had made since the game began.

Approximate coordinates were 45 degrees latitude and 25 degrees longitude. Brasov, Romania.

That would be quite the long trip, Xavier realized. But one that would certainly be worth taking if it meant meeting up with this mutant. Besides, if they didn't get to him then Mystique and her Brotherhood most certainly would.

He would have to tell Logan about this in the morning. With any luck, the feral man would be feeling charitable and willingly volunteer to go out in search of their mystery mutant.

* * *

><p>"Heck, no."<p>

"But Logan-"

"-You want me to go out on a wild goose chase on a different continent in search of some new mutant you just found?" The man demanded, his eyes never once leaving the work in front of him. If Evan ever "accidentally" lodged another one of his spikes into his motorcycle again, Logan swore that he would personally lodge one of his own claws in a very impolite place.

Xavier, refusing to give up, ignored that little snide remark and continued on with his argument.

"You won't be completely blind," he assured, "I believe he's somewhere in Romania."

"Yeah, that really narrows it down."

"It most certainly does. I've spent weeks tracking him all over Europe. It's a miracle I've managed to locate an exact location at all."

Logan inwardly groaned, fully knowing that the Professor would somehow convince him to make this little field trip despite his protests. He was merely stalling.

"Besides," the Professor added, in a tone that Logan could have sworn was sly, "if you take the Blackbird, you'll be there and back in no time."

Damn.

"Fine. I'll do this for you, but you owe me one," Logan begrudgingly agreed, and stood up from his crouch to face the Professor. He retrieved a dirty rag from a back pocket to wipe the grime and grease off his hands.

Even if he didn't get to take the Blackbird, Logan probably would've ended up going anyway. He had nothing but respect and gratitude for Charles, so of course he had no choice.

"Of course, now if it isn't too much trouble I'd like for you to leave as soon as possible."

Tossing the rag to the floor, Logan grunted in affirmation and stalked off back inside the mansion. Walking down the hall towards his room, Logan imagined that even with the aid of the Blackbird, it would take some time before this little excursion would be completed and the new mutant brought in. He'd have to pack and make sure that his usual duties around the Mansion would be taken care of during his leave.

Speaking of which...

"Scott, c'mere a minute," Logan called out to the young teen in sight. He and Jean were chatting happily about something or other when they had been oh so rudely interrupted, so the teen seemed rather irritated as he hastily exchanged some short "see you later's" with Jean.

"What's up?" He said briskly, not quite able to hide the annoyance from his words. Annoyance that would soon be forgotten.

"I'm going away for a while so I want you to keep everyone in line. Make sure they're still following up with their training in the Danger Room. Got it?"

Logan liked to imagine that Scott's eyes widened a bit behind those ruby shades of his. This was a responsibility put on him that he did not necessarily mind, even welcomed. A chance for him to prove that he was more than capable of acting leader on and off the field.

"Yeah, no problem," Scott was quick to assure, then hesitated before asking, "Where are you going, exactly?"

"Doesn't matter," Logan grunted languidly, "all you need to know I'll be back in a few days. Hopefully with a new member."

"A new member?" the younger man echoed, observing on how rapidly their little team was expanding. He used to be the only teenager around, and before he knew it Jean came along. Then Kitty, and Rouge, and the most recent being Evan. The mansion was huge, but he still wondered just how many people it could hold before it became overcrowded.

"Professor found him last night. So make sure that Evan doesn't do anything to scare 'im away," Logan remarked, already taking his leave before Scott even had a chance to come up with a reply.

He trusted Scott enough to take care of things for a few short days. He might be a bit more lenient than Logan would ever be, but the damage shouldn't be too bad.

In his room now, Logan grabbed a well-worn travel bag and began throwing in clothes, toiletries, and whatever else he thought he might need. Perhaps a small vacation in a foreign country where no one knew him and no one depended on him was what he needed. As much as he enjoyed being a part of the X-Men, there was something about being on his own that he could never consider tiring.

Yeah, a little vacation was exactly what he needed.

* * *

><p>No one could ever possible know that the deep underground of the Black Church ("Biserica Neagra" as it was known locally) housed a bunker.<p>

It was a luxurious and modern room. Furnished with high-end technology, a leather sofa set, and kept secret by the finest security that money could buy. It was due to this costly comfort of the setting that contrasted so sharply against the red man in the middle of it that made him seem so out of place.

Creatures with spaded tails and pointed ears belonged only in children's fairy tails. Or horror stories to be more precise.

Upon closer inspection; however, one might notice that perhaps the red man with the spaded tail and the pointed ears clack-clack-clacking away at the laptop did in fact belong here. The complete lack of windows added a certain claustrophobic and trapped sensation to the room. As did the dim lighting and the various implements of torture and war scattered about the room.

The only movement being a flick of his tail every now and then, the red man was obviously quite engrossed with whatever the laptop was displaying to him. Not even bothering to glace up when a loud BAMF noise and the scent of brimstone engulfed the air. This was no uncommon occurrence.

"There you are," he greeted after a few seconds of silence, his voice still carrying the slightest Russian accent that he never could quite be rid of. He didn't need to look up to know that the other occupant of the room was covered in blood, entirely not his own. He could already smell it.

"Mm. Have you been waiting for me?" A voice, male, replied. Unlike the other man, his was thickly accented. German this time.

The red man finally averted his eyes away from the screen to look up at the other man. Only, it wasn't a man at all. A teenager was more like it, perhaps only a few years older than a score.

In many ways, this boy strongly resembled his counterpart. A creature with a spaded tail and pointed years, the main difference being the blue skin in substitution for the red.

His counterpart replied, in more of a lazy statement than an actual accusation, "It's nearly morning, son. You've been gone three days now."

"Don't worry, Father. Nobody saw me."

The pair, now identified as father and son, both feigned indifference as a pressing weight bore down on them, both waiting for the other to make the first move. With these two, one always had to tread lightly. A family bloodline did not necessary protect the younger one from his father.

Because in the end, they were still just demons. The red man had killed off more than a few of his "sons" already.

However, among every one of his spawn, Azazel was most proud of and closest to Kurt. Kurt was the only one that he himself had raised, since his mother wouldn't do it.

He had reason to be proud anyway. The strongest teleporter, surpassed only by Azazel himself, Kurt was also even more demonic looking as he bore his three-digit hand unique only to him.

"Very well," Azazel finally dismissed and returned his attention back to the computer. The blue demon couldn't help a small wave of relief, and went to shed off his blood-soaked clothes. He would need to take a shower to be rid of the sticky, red liquid that caused tangled mats into his fur.

From the washroom, he could hear his father still typing whatever it was that he was working on. While waiting for the water to heat up, the clacking had stopped momentarily.

"I plan on leaving soon. Perhaps to Turkey. Do you plan on joining me?" Azazel had asked with a tone that could be interpreted as vague and uncaring. Kurt, on the other hand, seriously had to think about this.

They more often than not traveled together. Moving around from town to town, city to city, country to country, continent to continent. Wherever they pleased (or rather, wherever his father pleased) they would go. Although it wasn't unusual either for Kurt to go on for several months without seeing his father as one or the other stayed behind. In the end, they always met up.

And he rather liked Brasov. It was large enough to stay unnoticed for long periods of times, and had plenty of victims to choose from. Besides, it really was a beautiful, mountainous city. The only other place he could think of that compared to was Bavaria. Which would always be his favorite. If only because he had spent the most time there as a child, and the closest place he had to calling a home.

"No, I think I'd like to stay for a bit longer."

"All right."

The clacking resumed.

Kurt stepped into the steamy shower, scrubbing away at the blood that swirled and danced around his feet.

* * *

><p>Seven days.<p>

It had been _seven days_ and Logan was still no closer to finding the mutant than he was when the Professor first approached him about it a week ago. Xavier was of not much help either, the only info on the mutant that he could offer was that he was elusive.

Granted, the first couple he had spent sight-seeing the city by day and touring the bars by night, but he still should have found at least some sort of sign by now that there even was a mutant in Brasov.

It wasn't until the seventh night, the night he was about to call it quits and return home empty-handed, that he finally stumbled upon some evidence.

He was at his favorite bar, the only one that played any American TV, drinking Ursus beer and chewing on cheap cigars that he had brought himself from home.

It was relatively empty, minus the bartender and the group of men playing some sort of board game reminiscent to backgammon in the back of the bar. So he took notice when a patron walked in and sat himself three stools away from Logan's seat.

"O bere, va rog. Ciuc," he ordered in a hushed voice. A voice that sounded much too young to ordering alcohol, but the bartender did not bother asking for ID and instead served him his beer.

Logan took no initial interest in the fact that the boy (for that's what he must have been) was covered in head to toe in baggy, warm clothing. It was awfully cold outside, after all. The temperature threatening snowfall soon.

It wasn't until the boy didn't bother taking off his gloves or the scarf wrapped around his face that sneaking suspicions finally took a hold of Logan's mind.

Call it the desperation, exasperation, or his half-drunken state, but already thoughts of this boy being the mutant was filling up his head. Improbable and unlikely, but he had nothing else much to go on. Besides, even if it was a mistake, it certainly wouldn't be his worst one.

After a few philosophical sips, the boy paid for his drink and left. Obviously he had not come here looking to get drunk, perhaps just to think and mull something over. Logan waited a couple minutes before paying for his own bill and following the boy outside. Several blocks ahead of him already on the empty streets, he quickened his pace a bit to gain distance on him.

A light flutter of snow had started up, being carried along with the wind, the flakes moved in a whip-like fashion. Up and down, up and down, up and down.

Getting closer, the boy must have noticed that something was wrong as he glanced back once before quickening his pace. Logan followed suit, trying to keep up with his potential mutant who had just rounded a corner.

Just as the X-Man had done so as well, he halted in his steps. Spread out before him was nothing but an empty street and snowflakes that moved up and down, up and down, up and down.

Just as he was about to finally give up, again, something as sharp as a blade pressed up against his neck.

"Who are you?" A young, hushed voice rasped into his ear, "And why have you been following me?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize if any of the characters seem a bit OOC. It's been years since I've last watched X:Men Evo. Anyways, you know what to do. Please read and review. <strong>


	3. A Not So Much of a White Lie

**_A Demon is Disguise: Chapter Three_**

Ironic, Logan decided.

It was ironic that the one he has been looking for had found him instead. At least, it had to be him. No normal person could have pulled off that little disappearing act like he just had.

A pregnant pause followed the boy's question, the only response being given were the breaths of air made visible by the cold emitting from Logan's mouth, reeking of beer and smoke.

After a moment of silence and Logan still hadn't answered, more pressure was applied onto the ice-cold blade and into the flesh of his throat, right above his carotid artery.

_Easy, Logan. He's just a kid. _

A mutant kid. A kid who was probably just scared and confused and alone.

"Don't worry. I ain't gonna hurt ya'," Logan did his best to sound assuring. He adopted a relaxed stance, hands out and open to convey his peaceful intentions. The boy though, he merely laughed at his attempts. A humorless, slightly amused laugh.

"Oh? I'm not sure you have full comprehension of our situation here," the boy replied, pressing the blade in deeper, still, "If anyone is going to get hurt, it's you."

Twisted and savage words were spoken rather eloquently through a smooth accent. Logan frowned at this, he imagined this meeting going with a lot less homicidal tendencies. Now, he wasn't so sure about this kid. How broken was his humanity that he threatened harm to those who did not threaten him?

"Look, I just wanna talk," a task that was becoming increasingly difficult with sharpened steel digging into his throat, "I'm _like_ you. Different, I mean. There's a whole school of us back at the States, and we want to help you," Logan hoped that his argument was a convincing one. And perhaps it was as the pressure on the blade had lessened and the boy said nothing, contemplating his words. Wondering what the man actually meant by them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blade was completely removed from his throat and Logan breathed a sigh of relief. He was never in any actual danger, he could have turned the tables any time he wanted. He was just happy that the kid had willingly put the weapon down himself.

There was hope for him yet. Unless, of course, he flat out refuted the offer.

"Go back to where ever you came from. You are nothing like me," were the next words that came out of his mouth. The amusement was still in there, only now there was something else layered beneath it. Something very close to fear, but not quite. Trepidation? Caution?

Whatever it was, Logan wouldn't stand for it. He did not pull a five thousand mile trip and spent seven days in a foreign country looking for some punk only to have been turned down on the spot. Swallowing back a growl, he steadied his nerves and calmed his emotions before replying.

"No," he said, tone stern and final, a tone that was usually reserved for the students if they were misbehaving. Twisting his torso around just enough to face this kid for the first time, he felt the last bit of his reserve empty out like sand in an hourglass. Mouth slightly gaping, he was met with a pair of glowing, amber eyes set in a midnight-blue face.

The scarf and the hood had long since been discarded as the mutant presented himself to this stranger. One part of him was reminding him that this was one of his dumbest ideas ever. How long had he managed to stay under the radar now? In a town where he had grown rather comfortable in, no less. And of course, Azazel would be none too pleased if he ever found out how Kurt just revealed himself.

And yet, there was another part of him that was viciously happy. Maybe now this well-to-do American would realize that his was a lost cause. That once he's seen how the person he wanted to "help" was utterly demonic, he would react just like everyone else and run away.

Of course, Kurt wouldn't be able to let that happen. Very few humans had ever seen him and lived to tell the tale. And he had every intention enforcing this rule.

Much to the German's surprise; however, neither of the two things happened.

The man's eyes did not widen in fear and disgust, and nor did he attempt to make a run for it. Instead, his hulking body simply turned around fully to completely face the much shorter teleporter. Eyebrows scrunching in confusion, Kurt stiffened as his grip on the blade tightened.

"Let's start again. I'm Logan. An' I'm here 'cause we thought you could use our help," the man, Logan as he called himself, spoke resolutely revealing that beneath the gruff exterior lay an educated man.

At this point, only pure curiosity and befuddlement impelled Kurt to hear him out.

"And who exactly is "we"?"

"Like I said, a school of us, of mutants, back at the states."

He had always been aware of the existence of other mutants, several of his father's acquaintances were of such _. Kurt also knew that technically he was a mutant as well, though that implied he was also human, albeit genetically altered. And human was the last thing that Kurt could identify himself as.

Pushing these thoughts away, he mulled over Logan's words. So an American school of mutants wanted to help him. Help him with what exactly? Needless to say, he had his suspicions.

"Government affiliated?" Kurt asked casually, not taking his eyes off the man.

"No, of course not," Logan assured, snorting at the mere absurdity that the government would be of any help with their situation, "it's a privately funded school, headed by Professor Xavier."

"I see," the blue mutant mused, wracking his brain over that name as he was pretty sure he had heard it somewhere before. Finally, with an air of resignation, he shrugged and pulled his hood back up.

"As... generous.. as your offer is, my response is still the same. Go back, and leave me alone."

He made as if to move, but Logan would have none of it. Reaching out with one hand, he grabbed the kid's jacket and held him back.

"Now you listen-"

Before Logan could carry out his threat, the kid had simply vanished through his fingertips, leaving nothing but a blaze of smoke and the smell of sulfur in his place.

"You were saying?" the blue mutant said playfully, or perhaps mockingly, from several feet in front of Logan, just an arm's sweep away from where he was.

A teleporter. No wonder he was so hard to find with Cerebro. Just great.

"Listen, kid-"

"-Kurt," he supplied helpfully, not willing to admit that he was beginning to like this newcomer. Short tempered fools were always fun to mess with, in his own opinion anyway.

".. Kurt," Logan repeated, tasting the name in his mouth before deciding that it suited, "We can offer you protection and a home. Do you have anything like that here?"

Judging by the fact that the only reply Logan got to that was a pair of smoldering, amber eyes staring back at him, he assumed not. No other expression crossed his face as a pregnant pause soon followed. When Kurt finally moved, he did it to brush away the snowflakes that had clung to his hair with a three-digit'ed hand that Logan had just noticed for the first time.

Kurt caught the direction of his gaze and laughed in a way that revealed his canine-like teeth.

"I also have a tail," he mentioned with a tone that Logan mistook for sarcasm. Then he realized that no, no it wasn't. He actually did have a tail.

"Look," the blue mutant said in all seriousness, the play gone from his words, "you don't want me at your precious school. I do not belong around others."

He deserved only solitude. Even if he hadn't meant it, the kid may have let some years of pent up misery creep into his voice, which did not go unnoticed by Logan. If he was brutally honest, which he often was, then he would have to admit that the kid was certainly a sight.

No normal person could ever accept him, and Kurt knew that. And for the instances when someone did catch sight of him? Logan could only imagine how those went. Perhaps the kid had learned how to run, hide, and commit to drastic measures to ensure his own safety.

If that was the case, then Logan was fine with that. After all, there was no telling what he himself might have done for the same reason, or for a less honorable cause. If the nightmares were of any indication, then he must have done some fucked up shit back in the day.

Either way, he knew that this kid couldn't be forced into anything.

"I'm leaving back to the states in three days, if you change your mind you know where to find me," he offered, obviously referring to the bar. Kurt merely nodded, agreeing even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't take up the offer.

"Noted," was the last thing that the two mutants had exchanged on that night. Neither knowing or aware that they would in fact be seeing a lot more of each other very soon.

**AN: Don't forget, Logan was right about some things, but also Kurt just killed people for the heck of it. Azazel was a bad daddy. By the way, sorry for the language in this one. Then again, I'm pretty sure I've already rated this story M, so naughty language should have been expected. **

**Thanks goes to Zewy, San child of the wolves, L.O.L., jordylilly777, LookPassMe, and snowwolfninjaprincess-23 for reviewing. And to everyone else who has fave'd or alert'ed. **


	4. Fitful Slumber

Feeling sick to his stomach, Kurt teleported back to the bunker. He could still feel the acid churning, looking for a way out.

_How dare he?_

Biting roughly on the inside of his cheek, Kurt's hands shook slightly as he shed off the layers of coats and jackets cocooning him. Now, only in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a Sex Pistols t-shirt of which he had no idea as to how it ever came under his possession in the first place, the young mutant collapsed on the sofa and curled in on himself.

While he would have much rather preferred his bed, exhaustion had crept in when his guards were down and took captive of his body. He had barely made the trip to the underground bunker when he realized he could barely keep his eyes open.

_Said he wanted to help me._

He would have to leave first thing he woke up, perhaps rejoin his father back in Turkey or simply go to another one of their hideouts in a different country. Rio was supposed to be rather nice this time of the year. Either way, he couldn't stay here.

Not if that westerner was going to be around.

_Why should he help me? I don't need it._

Groaning, Kurt rolled over onto his back and brought a hand up to press against his forehead. He took deep, even breaths in an attempt to control his unusually fast heartbeat. He had no words nor an idea with what was wrong with him, just that he simply felt ill.

He had once heard the English phrase "going into shock" which seemed to accurately describe his current state. What was he going into shock from?

_Meeting a decent person, perhaps._He thought wryly. Or someone that had at least acted decent towards him.

His father was tolerable enough. They respected and understood each other in a way that only a son and a father could, albeit some tenseness between them. The only other people that Kurt had ever met were his father's acquaintances and the occasional sibling who would simply acknowledge him obligingly.

There were of course his victims. Whose eyes would well with hate and fear at the very sight of him, fear that he relished and almost craved.

So why did he find that man's genuine concern so appealing?

_Because you're acting like a damned fool! Just go to bed and forget this ever happened. _Taking his own advice to heart, Kurt finally allowed for himself to embrace the enticing siren call of sleep as his mind and body calmed into a condition of tranquility.

_Just forget._

Kurt liked sleeping. It was good for both him and the safety of his own sanity. Nothing made him more content then getting eight or more hours of sleep, which was simply divine for him.

So having been woken up from a fitful slumber that couldn't have been more than a couple hours long was, in his opinion at least, almost sinful. It took him a while to finally find out where the ringing was coming from, and when he did his sleep-lazy fingers fumbled with the small phone before he finally managed to properly answer it. He had forgotten about the thing.

"Ja?"

He was greeted with a smooth, all too recognizable chuckle on the other end.

_"I didn't wake you, did I? Surely it isn't that late."_ His father would often call just to check up on him when they were apart. Unfortunately, Kurt wasn't always the best at keeping his phone on him at all times like he was supposed to.

"No, father. I've just had a long night is all," Kurt replied, he was in a sitting position and leaned against the wall for comfort.

_"Oh? Why don't you tell me?" _

So he did. Kurt liked talking almost as much as he did sleeping. Unfortunately, this did not go too well with the whole "not knowing anyone" to talk to. So Azazel always ended up being the ears for Kurt's ramblings.

He told him about his visit to the bar and how he always had to order a beer from there because it was the only drink on the menu that wasn't ever kept too warm. He told him about the impressive play he had witnessed of the men playing tablă in the corner. He also complained about the bartender's attitude and gossiped about the rumors of his supposed affair with the woman that owned the bakery two streets over.

Then he got to the mutant.

"He followed me after I've left the bar so I confronted him. I was going to kill him, but I didn't because I have to admit, he… intrigued me. He claimed that he wanted to bring me over to the States where an entire school of mutants learned…"

For a while, Kurt heard nothing from the other end of the line. A second stretched into a minute so finally the blue half-demon piped up, "Father...?"

_"Yes, yes. I'm still here,"_ the red man assured, sounding somewhat rushed in his response, _"This man, what was he like again?" _He asked almost excitedly, an emotion practically unheard of when it came to the many-year old demon mutant.

Hesitantly and unsure, Kurt began describing him as best as he could, all the while wondering why his father was so interested in the matter.

"He was a large man, very muscular, and he had very unkempt hair," Kurt said almost disdainfully. His own body was entirely covered in fur and even he managed to find the time to make sure his appearance was acceptable. That man could have at least ran a comb through that dreadfully styled mane.

"And he mentioned his name was Logan," Kurt said suddenly, figuring that piece of information would be helpful. It was quiet again, as Azazel processed this information. This time, Kurt didn't interrupt and simply waited for a reply.

_"... Go back. Take up his offer," _Azazel finally said, his tone betraying the fact that his mind was elsewhere. Kurt's world just sort of froze, and as the sudden reality of what those words entailed sunk in, the seconds began sludging forward once again. Quickly regaining his wits about him, the young teleporter shot back with heavy rebuttals.

"I'm sorry, vhat?" his accent always seemed to thicken considerably when he was flustered. "Vhy would I do zhat?" Ok, so his accent became painfully obvious. But he couldn't help feeling insulted and maybe even hurt. Did his father want to be rid of him? Azazel laughed off Kurt's worries on the other end of the line, clearly sensing his distress.

_"Because," _he replied reassuringly, _"if you attended that school, it would give us a certain leverage."_

"Leverage against what?"

_"Well, we can discuss that later. Has that man already left?"_

"... No. He said he would give me three days in case I wanted to change my mind."

_"Perfect. Kurt, I'll call you back. As soon as I talk to a certain acquaintance of mine and have everything set up, I expect you to do as I say. Expect my call and keep your phone on you."_

They exchanged good-bye's and Kurt lowered the phone from his ear and simply stared at the small device in his hand disbelievingly. When on Earth did his day go from escaping boredom at a cheap bar to making arrangements so as to attend a school in America? And exactly what kind of plans did his father have in store for him anyway?

* * *

><p>"A goddamned teleporter. Can ya' believe it?" Logan huffed into the receiver. He was currently situated in the cockpit of the Blackbird, parked just outside of town and hidden among the leaves of the forest and the semi-darkness of the very early dawn. On the other end, the Professor chuckled, clearly amused by these new developments and eager to learn more.<p>

_"No, I don't. Although that would certainly explain why I had so much trouble pinpointing his location. And you say he has expressed his wishes against joining us?" _Charles inquired, his tone taking a much more troubled note to it.

"Yeah. I gave 'im three days to change his mind. Even if he doesn't, I'm still haulin' his ass back," Logan grumbled, taking a swig out of the half empty bottle of whiskey in his other hand.

_"Now, now. We certainly don't want to compromise his free will. But perhaps if you could persuade him otherwise..." _Charles chimed and then trailed off, leaving it up to Logan to interpret his words in whatever way he wanted.

"As long as y'er definition of persuasion falls under the same category as blackmail 'nd threats, then you can bet that I'll find ways to 'persuade him otherwise'", the feral mutant replied in the exact way that Charles guessed he would. Pushing back regretful thoughts that he himself should have gone after the teleporter, Charles simply put his trust into his friend. Surely Logan wouldn't do anything too rash... _  
><em>

_"Just make sure you take your cigars outside," _Charles advised for the umpteenth time, just as Logan raised a lit match to the opposing end of the accused cigar in his mouth, _"I certainly don't want you stinking up the place with your smoke." _

Logan sighed and tossed the match aside, watching as its flame went out on its descent to the floor. He really wasn't supposed to smoke or drink around the kids and he hardly ever had the chance to escape to a bar when he was constantly training the younger generation of mutants or just doing work around the mansion in general. Another thing that he missed about being on his own.

But even if going without his tobacco and alcohol wouldn't kill him, going without the X-Men just might. Of course though, that didn't mean he couldn't have both.

"Yeah, fine. I'll call you back if there are any new developments."

"Very well. Good night then, Logan. Or is it morning? What time is it there, anyhow? Have you been getting any sleep?"

"Good _night_, Charles."

Before the Professor had the chance to pester him about his sleeping habits anymore, Logan hung up and took one last swig of whiskey before going to bed. The Professor was right, it was indeed morning, the time just barely reaching five. But seeing as he had nothing to do but wait until the kid decided to show up, _if _he decided to show up, at their rendezvous point then he decided there was nothing more he'd rather do than sleep.

The frustrations of his encounter with the kid was starting to get to him. Unfortunately, these frustrations couldn't be drowned away in whiskey or slept off. Logan hated to admit that he couldn't rest until he was sure that the kid was safe in their custody, and hated himself even more for letting the blue mutant get to him so easily.

There was something about him that reminded Logan so much of... well, himself.

**AN: I'm bad at updating consistently and I should feel bad. **


	5. Old Friends, New Friends

Azazel and Erik Lensherr knew each other only through sinister means. They each respected one another for being powerful and cunning men, albeit with their own agendas. Erik wanted mutants to be recognized as the superior race of the Earth. And Azazel wanted... well, nobody knew for sure what the ancient Neyaphem's goals were, just that they surely couldn't bode well for the humans and even some mutants.

On the occasion; however, the two men's agendas would line up and become parallel where one could help out the other and expect something back in return. When this occasion arose, a meeting between these two men was inevitable.

Erik was in his office with work up on the laptop-computer when he smelled it, that telltale scent of brimstone which he could recognize anywhere. He glanced up only once before returning his eyes to the computer screen.

"Azazel," he greeted politely, not questioning the demon-mutant's presence in the least.

"Lensherr," Azazel replied, almost enthusiastically. Obviously he came to Eric in a good mood, and Eric wasn't sure if he should be intrigued or just worried.

Heaving an internal sigh, Eric saved his work document before shutting off his laptop. Turning to his guest to give him his now full attention, Erik barely managed to keep himself from saying "Don't touch that" when he found that Azazel was playing with the various trinkets and memorials decorating his bookshelf.

The red mutant was dressed in his signature black suit which buttoned up all the way, a red handkerchief poking out of the left breast pocket. Erik kept his opinion to himself that Azazel could have easily made the cover for "The Devil Wears Prada".

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Erik offered, forcing his nosy guest to put down the decorative medieval sword that Erik kept hung on the wall.

"No, please, don't trouble yourself for my sake," Azazel assured, taking the seat opposite of the desk and now fully facing Lensherr.

"Well then," Erik replied, hoping to get Azazel's purpose for coming here to him so late in the darker hours of the night out in the open already, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this?"

The red mutant; however, only smiled wickedly in return.

"Tell me, my friend," he said, taking great joy out of Erik's growing frustration, "how well are you faring in accomplishing your goals? I imagine you would be having some trouble now that your most loyal minion has turned on you." Azazel was, of course, referring to Mystique and her recent betrayal.

Obviously that was still a sore subject for Erik as he glowered at his "friend".

"Don't _patronize_ me, Azazel," Erik warned dangerously, underlying threats hidden artfully.

"My apologies," he sounded almost genuinely sorry. Almost. Although he did enjoy pushing Erik's buttons, he still knew not to push him over the edge.

Calming himself before opening his mouth again, Erik decided to change the subject. Judging by the kind of mood Azazel was in, he wouldn't get to the point until he wanted to.

"Where is that son of yours, anyway?" he asked, referring obviously to Kurt. It was fairly rare to see one without the other, and even though Azazel had plenty of sons, only a few of which Erik had actually met, Kurt was, just like everybody else's, his favorite. The boy had a wit about him that never failed to impress, but what was more impressive was his skill in the fight.

Unlike his father who often fought with weapons, Kurt preferred to use his bare hands. Something that Erik could respect.

"Well, that's exactly what I came here to talk to you about," Azazel replied lazily, leaning dangerously far back on his chair, using his tail to keep him balanced so as to not to fall back. Erik was growing tired of the red man's childish antics, and used his powers to bring the steel-tipped chair legs back down.

Azazel let it happen as Erik leveled him with a stare.

"Oh? You haven't lost him now, have you?" He replied, something like sarcasm at the edge of his words. As much as he liked the kid, he really didn't have the time to go on whatever adventure that Azazel would drag him into. He couldn't deny his curiosity though. What was this to do about Kurt exactly?

"Please, Erik. I don't tend to lose my toys as you do yours," before the German could protest or make his anger any more clear, Azazel rushed into his next sentence, knowing it would appease the mutant.

"I do, however, believe I have strong leverage and a potentially very powerful tool against that Xavier man and his school."

Taking Erik's silence as his cue to go on, Azazel relayed to him everything that Kurt had told him. The entire time, Erik's scheming mind was already racing with ideas and plots that he could put into action. There was still the deal with Azazel, however. What did he want in return?

"-and before you think that you are completely indebted to my generous self," Erik snorted at that but listened intently, "I assure you of my own personal reasons for infiltrating the school."

Erik didn't press on. If Azazel wanted to tell him his reasons, he would have. All that mattered now was their deal.

Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out an expensive looking bottle of scotch and two glasses. Pouring themselves the drinks, Erik offered Azazel a glass which he took. Neither of them sipped.

"And you're willing to put your son in such a... dangerous predicament for your own sake?" Erik questioned, hoping he wasn't being inappropriate. With Azazel no one ever really knew. He merely chuckled though and raised his glass to his lips. He took a sniff, still not drinking the content.

"My son is strong. He can take care of himself against a few mutants."

"And if Xavier attempts to probe his mind and discover his secrets?"

Azazel didn't reply immediately, preferring instead to mull it over and agitate Erik even further.

"...I would advise you not to concern yourself with that," he finally said, "We Neyaphem have our ways."

Erik raised his glass to that, seemingly satisfied. He may not have been sure what Azazel was talking about, but he trusted him.

"To Kurt then," he toasted. Azazel followed suit, and met his glass in the middle, the two wares clinking together.

"To Kurt."

* * *

><p>Two nights passed and the third one was well into its descent as well. The bar would be closing soon and if the kid hadn't shown up yet, Logan was beginning to lose out hope that he ever would.<p>

The bar tender was cleaning up and Logan knew that he would be kicked out soon. Normally the bar wouldn't close till the earliest hours of the morning, but on a cold night like this, there wouldn't be anyone to serve. In fact, Logan was the only person in there, much to his frustration as he had been hoping that a certain mutant would have joined him by now.

Leaving a generous tip on the counter, the man wrapped himself in his jacket to prepare himself for the chill outside. The snow had only let up once since his last and most likely final encounter with the kid, leaving the entire town blanketed in a thick coat of snow.

It would be cold tonight. Would Kurt be? Did he have anywhere to stay sheltered against this weather?

Shaking these thoughts from his head, Logan decided that ultimately this was the kid's fault. He offered him a good deal, all Kurt had to do was take it.

Trudging through the snow, Logan planned the trip back home. With the Blackbird it would be about a 9 hour trip, 10 if the weather was going to get any worse. Reaching the outskirts of the city, Logan began hiking back to where he had the Blackbird parked in the middle of the forest.

By the time he finally reached the jet, he was ready for the warmth and familiarity it offered. Stepping into it from the side door, he felt more than welcomed into it. Despite it all, Logan was still happy to finally go home. The trip and solitude was nice enough as it lasted, but - and god forbid he ever admit it - he missed his kids and the school.

Logan took a brief shower and poured himself some black coffee, preparing himself for the long trip home. Settling down into the cockpit, mug of coffee in one hand and other hand on the ignition, he stared out one last time before bringing the Blackbird to life and listened for her engine to start.

Leaning back into the seat, he waited patiently for the jet's vitals to stabilize and gave her time to hum to life before taking off.

"You were going to leave without saying good-bye?"

It wasn't often and quite rare for Wolverine to be caught off guard, so it was no wonder that a string of curses flew from his mouth before he could stifle it.

He didn't even have to turn around to know who it was, he was already able to smell him first as the scent of brimstone and sulfur seemed to linger on him in layers.

So of course it was Kurt that was sitting next to him in the co-pilot seat, grinning up at him impishly.

"What- How did you even-"

"Your 'secret location' is not very secret," Kurt cut him off, explaining with a shrug, "Locals and tourists come out here all the time for the sight-seeing. You're lucky this snow has prevented any of them from doing so lately."

Logan regained his composure and scowled at the kid seated next to him.

"And how did you get _in_?" He seethed, keeping his teeth ground together. Kurt simply looked at him as if he were stupid and merely pointed to himself with one of his three fingers.

"Teleporter, remember?"

Right. Of course. That still didn't give him the right to just... poof himself where ever he wanted.

"Why didn't you just wait at the bar like I told you to?" Logan had one last question. Well actually he had a lot, but decided that they had plenty of time to talk it over on the ride back.

Kurt sighed, tiring already of the interrogation. Shrugging again, he leaned further into his seat and made himself comfortable. He sat crouched into the seat, his tail flicking around lazily. Unlike the last time they had met, Kurt was considerably dressed down from the layers upon layers of clothing.

Dressed simply in a pair of black jeans and gray t-shirt, the outfit hugged his body revealing a lean and toned torso.

"I have a flair for theatrics," he finally settled with. Logan scoffed and prepared the Blackbird for takeoff.

"You better be certain that this is what you want. Because I am not turning this jet around once we're in the air and on our way to Bayville. Understand?"

The mutant seemed to consider this for a moment, doubt etching at his face just visibly so. Eventually though he cleared himself of whatever regretful thoughts may have been plaguing him and nodded.

"Yes, I understand," he replied somewhat tritely.

"Good. Now you and I have a lot to go over before we get there. So sit down, shut up, and listen," Logan ordered and finally took off. They were in for a long ride.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Good news, I'm not dead! Better news, I'll probably have more time to update now! It also helps that my muse for this story is suddenly back. <strong>

**I feel like I should clear up the timeline here. I've already mentioned before that it's been a while since I've watched this show, so I might have gotten some events skewed up. **

**This story is set in Season 1, before all the new mutants showed up. Magneto is already in the picture, and Mystique has already defected from him. Hank McCoy (the Beast) is also already a teacher, and has had no affiliations with Bayville High (so he was never the gym teacher there, I sort of have something planned for him). **

**That's pretty much it for the changes. I'd love to hear from you guys!**


	6. Rude Awakenings

The jet was silent, probably for the first time since they had left. Between Logan's never-ending ramblings and Kurt's obnoxious prattling there was hardly a moment of peace and quiet between them. So Logan was relieved at the fact that the kid had tired out and decided he'd rather sleep the rest of the ride out rather than argue back and forth with him. He was even more relieved when the mansion finally came into view.

The older mutant had been flying nonstop for over nine hours, he was ready to crawl into bed and promptly pass out. Knowing his luck though, Charles probably already had some more errands lined up for him to run. Coasting the Bird to the ground, Logan gently landed it before coming to a full stop just before the hangar.

Logan leaned back into his chair with a sigh. Now, with the engine turned off and the wind no longer whistling past them, the jet was truly quiet and he could hear Kurt's light snoring coming from the cot. He turned around to see that the kid hadn't even stirred from his sleep and was still curled in on himself, his back turned to Logan.

Logan stood up and walked over to the boy, studying the sleeping form with mild curiosity. Only in his sleep did the boy look even somewhat peaceful and at ease, a sharp contrast to the stiff shoulders and tight face that he usually sported. Logan reached over and shook him awake.

"Wake up, boy, we're here."

Kurt scrunched his eyes tighter before blinking them open. There was a moment of disorientation before memories of the past few days suddenly resurfaced and he remembered where he was. With a groan he rolled over and planted his feet to the floor, erecting himself into a sitting position. Arching his back and raising his arms well above his head, he stretched to get his blood flowing and thoughts together.

Logan was already in the next room, gathering his things and tidying up what little trash he left behind. Kurt grabbed his knapsack from under the cot. He didn't bring back much from the base. He carried with him just enough clothes for a few days and some more personal items.

"You got everything?" Logan called out from the other room. Kurt looked around him with numb eyes and forced himself up.

"Ja," he replied calmly and met the other man who was standing in the other room and waiting for him. They walked up to the exit which Logan had opened with the press of a few buttons on a pad situated by it. The door gently flew open, a whoosh of compressed air escaping with it as sheets of sunshine poured in, temporarily blinding the both them.

As Kurt's sensitive eyes were still adjusting to the light, Logan had already hopped off and, already quite familiar with his surroundings, made his way to Kurt did not know where. Forced to depend on his leading the way, Kurt 'ported just beside him and followed his steps.

"It's still noon, the other kids are at school. You can meet 'em all later. You'll be attending both Xavier's academy and regular schooling with 'em as well."

Kurt had other opinions about that very last part, but kept his thoughts to himself for the moment.

"Till then you'll meet the Professor first. Then you'll be _his_ problem."

Kurt snorted and quipped back

"Problem? If I remember correctly, you were the one who approached me and practically begged me to join you," he drawled to which Logan merely grunted at. He led him outside, to the front courtyard, and Kurt was met with the sight of a huge mansion situated in the middle of it all. He hadn't seen it flying in, having been asleep, so Logan watched for a reaction.

"Nice place," Kurt said with a shrug. Ungrateful brat.

"You'll be living here from now on. Come on, the Prof is probably in his study," the older man grumbled making Kurt smile inwardly, pleased with himself at already getting on the man's nerves.

The inside of the mansion was grander still, and yet also comfortable. Logan led him along hallways and staircases until they finally reached their destination. He knocked twice before letting himself in.

"Well old man, here you go."

The "old man" was seated behind a desk, various papers and files spread out before him. He was obviously very engrossed in his work as the bald professor looked up in surprise.

"Ah, Logan. I see you've returned. And you brought a friend," Xavier's gaze turned towards Kurt himself which he met politely and nodded to.

"So how was your trip?" Xavier asked pleasantly to which Logan merely waved his hand to in a dismissing matter.

"Later. First I need a shower, a drink, and a nap." Logan insisted before Charles could rope him into any more chores.

"Very well. I will acquaint myself with our young friend than."

"Sure." And with that, Logan headed out, leaving Kurt alone with this strange man. As the door shut behind him he suddenly felt very awkward, unsure as to how to converse with him.

"Please, have a seat," Xavier offered, gesturing to one of the chairs set in front of his desk. Kurt did so, shrugging his backpack off and setting it at his feet.

"You'll have to excuse the mess, I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you so soon. None the matter, however. You're here now and that's that," he said with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"Herr Logan did not inform you of our arrival?" he asked just to say something.

"No, but that's expected with him. I hope you don't mind my asking, but your accent is very distinguished. German?"

"Yes," Kurt confirmed with a slight nod, "Bavarian, to be more specific."

"I see. But Logan found you in Romania, did he not?" the Professor questioned with a curious intone. Kurt swallowed slightly and tapped his fingers against the side of his thigh.

"I... I like to travel a lot. My abilities make that easy," he explained. That was mostly the truth anyway. The Professor nodded at that, satisfied with the answer. He suddenly started and smiled wider.

"Where are my manners, you must be exhausted. Here, I'll show you to your room where you can rest up and we shall talk more later." Kurt noticed for the first time wheelchair that the man was bound to as he pulled out and away from the desk and wheeled himself across the room. He didn't bother mentioning that he wasn't tired at all, having slept most of the ride here, but he wasn't going to argue either.

Getting up, he opened the door for the Professor who led the way. Another set of hallways and staircases later, and the Professor had led him to one long hallway with many doors to either side of it.

"This is the boys' wing, your room is the third one from the left. You'll be sharing it with another student, Evan. I hope you don't mind."

He did mind actually. Very much. Deciding once more to hold his tongue; however, he simply nodded again and thanked the Professor.

"Very well, ..." Xavier trailed off and eventually shot off a sheepish smile, "My apologies, I'm afraid I never asked for your name. How rude of me," The Professor said with an airy laugh to which the newest member merely shrugged.

"It's Kurt," he supplied helpfully.

"Just Kurt?"

"Ja," he confirmed, "Just Kurt."

The Professor gave him this look, one that the newest member wasn't entirely sure what to make of. Finally the Professor smiled somewhat sadly and replied:

"I'll just leave you to rest now, Kurt. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask myself or anyone else. This is your home now; feel free to treat it as such."

The kind words and generous offers left him feeling a bit sick. Why were these people treating him like this? Especially since he had done nothing to deserve such kindness. Forcing himself to push down on these new and strange feelings, he quickly took up a resolve once more. He wasn't here to make friends. He had a job to do.

"Thank you," he replied tritely and with one final nod the Professor turned to leave. As he listened to the chair wheeling down the hallway, Kurt realized that he was more or less left to his devices. Deciding that he may as well check out his new room, Kurt shouldered his knapsack and swung the door open.

It was a large enough bedroom, equipped with two beds, two desks, and a closet fit for two. It was a bit messy, with clothes and random objects strewn about. Rather than being peeved at the mess though, he was relieved. Kurt was in no way a neat person himself, so at least his new roommate couldn't complain about his habits either.

There were bound to be other complaints though, he felt. Surprisingly enough, the Professor seemed rather unfazed by his appearance as Logan was. But that didn't guarantee that the young students would accept him as easily as they had.

Folding up what little clothes he had brought with him, Kurt put them away on what he assumed to be his side of the closet as it was rather empty. Tossing the empty knapsack under the unused bed, now his bed, Kurt resisted the urge to go snooping around his new roommate's stuff.

Figuring he would have plenty of opportunity to snoop later, Kurt climbed into the bed and dug himself under the sheets, suddenly feeling exhausted. He had figured that the long ride on the way over would have rested him up, but the bed seemed way too comfortable to pass up on.

Before he knew it, he was already falling back asleep.

* * *

><p>It was Friday afternoon. It was also the first warm day in forever - a pleasant and welcome break from the dreary, cloudy days that have been filling up the month.<p>

So why the hell was Evan still sitting in a classroom, surrounded by kids he didn't like, and listening to a lecture he already understood.

Brrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnngggg.

"Finally," he huffed under his breath, hastily stuffing his notebooks into his backpack.

"Evan, Scott wants to know if you're getting a ride with him or not?" Kitty snuck up behind him, lightly jabbing his side with her elbows.

The teen thought about how he should probably get back home as soon as possible and get started on the ridiculous amount of homework assigned over the weekend to get it out of the way. But as much as he loved riding - would probably love driving it more - in Scott's sweet car, there was no way he was going to miss out on the only chance he would get at spending some time outside before homework, chores, and the Danger Room took up his time.

"Nah, it's fine. Tell him to leave without me."

Kitty shrugged her shoulders and left him with a quick "Kay" before leaving to catch up with her friends. Evan picked up his board from the office and idly skated back home. He heard honking behind him, and Scott's car sped past him, some waves being thrown his way which he returned.

He didn't mind. He was just glad to be outside. Besides, the mansion wasn't even too far away from school.

Kicking his foot to the ground a couple times to propel himself forward, Evan rushed down the hill. As he got closer to the mansion, he began slowing down. Not in a rush to get back, he took his time the last half of the ride back.

"Look who finally showed up," Scott announced as Evan entered in through the kitchen door. Everyone was already home, either lounging around and snacking, or snacking and doing homework.

Scott and Jean were at the table, their Physics textbook spread out before them and a half empty bag of chips by them. Kitty and Rogue were chatting about something or another at the counter, sharing a tub of ice cream between the two of them.

"I noticed the jet's back in the hangar. Logan's back?" Evan changed the subject, looking to browse through the fridge himself in hopes of finding something good to eat.

"Probably. Haven't seen him though. The Professor left a note about some errands, so he and Ms. Munroe are out, too."

Evan gave up with the fridge and moved onto the cupboards.

"And Mr. McCoy?"

"Well, the "Do Not Disturb" sign is up at his lab again, so he'll probably be in there all day."

Nodding, Evan shut the cupboard door, having found nothing. It wasn't often that they had the mansion more or less to themselves so he decided to take advantage of that.

Giving up entirely on food, he left the kitchen and went for his room. As much as loved having a busy schedule and almost always having something to do, it was also nice to have some private time.

It seemed; however, that privacy wasn't going to make time for him. There was definitely someone asleep in the extra bed of his room. And that's when he remembered. Logan was home. And he brought with him their newest member.

The Professor warned him beforehand that he would now be sharing his room with someone else.

The guy was curled up into the sheets, half of his body entangled into them and the other half hanging precariously off the bed. The guy was also... kind of weird looking.

Quickly he shot out of his room, down the hallway, down the stairs, and back into the kitchen.

"You guys? Logan's back, right?"

They all looked up at him, caught off guard by his sudden entrance and excited questions.

"Yeah, why?" Jean confirmed once more.

"Well, why'd he leave in the first place?" Rather than answering her directly, Evan went for indirectly leading them to the answer.

"To retrieve another mutant..." Scott trailed off as what Evan was implying finally hit him.

"Ohmigosh, is he here already?" Kitty asked excitedly. She welcomed every new member and was always excited at the prospect of making a new friend. Especially if they were like her and the rest of the mansion residents.

"Yep, and he's passed out in my room."

The stillness didn't last for long before everyone rose out of their chairs and raced towards the boys' wing. Evan was in the lead, Kitty hot on his trails.

"I say we prank him," he whispered to her so that the older kids wouldn't hear him and spoil their fun.

"_Totally_," Kitty readily agreed just as they reached his room. Evan got left behind as she simply phased through the door and the others caught up to him as he opened it.

When they all entered, Kitty was already crouching over him, studying the sleeping form with curiosity.

"Whoa," she whispered so as not to wake him, "He looks like... he looks like Mr. McCoy a little."

The rest gathered around her, studying him as well.

"Mm, maybe ah' bit cuter th'n McCoy," Rogue mused, taking note of his sharp and well defined facial features. By now, they were all crowding around the bed, leaning in on each other trying to get close and get a clear view of the new kid.

Something must have disturbed his sleep as he was starting to wake up. Slowly, one eye sluggishly opened halfway before both shot wide open.

"Scheiße!" the word flew out of his mouth in a panic as he tried to wrestle out of his trap in the sheets before only managing to fall off the bed and hit his head.

"Oof," he grunted as he struggled to get up into a sitting position.

He realized that there were five blank faces staring back at him as he was gingerly massaging the bump on the back of his head.

"Vhat the hell are you all _doing_?" he demanded, and the blank faces suddenly cracked into smiles.

One, the girl with the ponytail, squealed and covered her mouth with her hands.

"His accent is soooo cute," she stated and then gasped.

"And his ears! He's like a little elf!" she said, even more excited as Kurt simply stared back at her in astonishment.

This... this wasn't the reaction he was expecting either.

"Ein elf?" he repeated disbelievingly. He had been called lots of things in his lifetime. Lots of demeaning, dehumanizing, and cruel things. But elf might have been one of the most insulting.

He was certainly no elf.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Is the last scene weird? I feel like I could have handled that better, but it's 2 am and I really just want to post this chapter up already. As always, thanks for the reviews and I would love to hear some more from you all. Thanks for reading! <strong>


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